I Can't Hang

St. James walked through the gates after disregarding the slight tremble as nothing. He wondered about it for a little while, but eventually shook it off, convincing himself that it was only in his head.

So he got through to Heaven again perfectly fine, right? Nothing more than a little shakeup in his mind from that brief moment of confusion. Soon enough he was back to thinking about ol’ me and Brady down in New York, still staking out and having no clue in hell what was gonna happen to us.

The gates opened for him and he walked in, used to seeing all the crowds gathered in the main platform of God’s kingdom. They were all gathered around, chatting it up like high school kids do when they find a new piece of gossip to blow outta proportion. Things didn’t seem that much different to James when he came back. Although every time he entered Heaven, unless people were completely doing backflips and crazy crap, he never minded it too much.

In a way, St. James was jaded. But for some reason he paid attention to the chatter flittering around the angels, trying to shake any thoughts of me and Brady out of his head. It worked for a while. He picked up bits and pieces of the dialogue, learning about various tidbits of random personal lives that he never cared about.

It was like a weird sorta fog that drifted through his head on his way back to his Heaven home, an apartment on the west side of eternity. Soon he’d be taking the usual train ride to his home to relax a little bit until God called him to rescue another soul, and then he’d be back on Earth again to do it all once more.

And he was well on his way to Heaven’s subway station, too. Had his mind all geared up for that. But what interrupted him – well, everyone, actually – was a loud creak and the gates being swung open rapidly.

A kid who looked around twelve or so with dreads coming to his shoulders crashed through the gate, panting and doubling over on his knees. He was gasping for air as he spoke exasperatedly. His wings, which weren’t too much bigger than he was, shook with nerves; the boy looked up at all of the souls up in God’s kingdom and coughed.

“They’re coming to Earth,” he wheezed. “They’re gonna be in New York. Manhattan.”

Instinctively, St. James whipped his head around, as did everybody else. The location caught his ears.

A silence echoed throughout Heaven, hushing the worthless chatter the angels were exchanging. They didn’t know what the boy was talking about. Shoot, I wouldn’t have known either.

One angel paced over next to him and put a hand on his shoulder, helping him to slow down his erratic breathing. “Calm down, child,” she soothed, shaking the golden hair from her eyes. “Now tell us what happened…?”

“Demons. Everywhere in Manhattan. They’re planning to go into the streets. They’re gonna destroy the place,” the boy explained.

St. James could feel his stomach turning and churning, and all of a sudden he became incredibly woozy. He blinked nauseously, just hoping on all the nothing he had that the reason for all of this wasn’t what he thought it was. But hoping on nothing ain’t gonna help, as he found out.

The boy took a few deep breaths, coming to his senses. He could stand up straight now. “There are a few former angels in Manhattan hiding out and they’re supposed to be in Hell, but they’re not going. They’re just staying there in a hotel.”

James could’a fainted right then if it wasn’t for sheer luck. A cold sweat broke out across his forehead. This was all his fault. He knew it was. And at that moment, he began to regret every awful thing he’d ever done in his entire life and afterlife – among them was him “helping out” me and Brady. His heart was pounding into his ears, blocking out every other sound that was beginning to break loose as the other angels started talking again.

And silently, to himself, he mumbled, “No…”

Thunder and lightning seemed to crash and rock the clouds of Heaven, sending all of the good souls reeling into oblivion. James felt the tremble in his feet again, only this time, it seemed millions of times bigger, and this wasn’t nothing in his head – man, this was the real crap right here.

God’s door smacked open, creating a huge thud that reverberated through the kingdom. Blinding white light shined in the eyes of all of Their people. Nobody had ever heard such a noise this distinct in ages – not even the angels that had been with Them since near the beginning of time.

And not even James could have predicted it.

“WHO HAS CAUSED THIS? WHAT HAS CAUSED THIS?” Their voice boomed. It was like They had some sorta state-of-the-art loudspeaker hooked up to Their voice box that amplified Their already-kinda-intimidating voice times a billion.

All of the souls in the land shook with fear, feeling themselves grow weary with the news that they had no idea about.

God emerged from Their room, the beam of light spreading from Their chair. They stood tens of feet taller than all of the others, reminding all of them of the fierce power that They possessed as creator of the universe and all of the crap in it.

Nobody dared to speak. Nobody wanted to answer Their question. And of all of the ones in the vicinity, only one knew the answer. But he was too busy practically wetting himself.

“I ASK AGAIN,” God commanded once more. “I MUST KNOW WHO HAS CAUSED THIS. I HAVE TO KNOW WHO IS HIDING. AND I MUST KNOW WHY!”

And again, nobody had the guts to answer Their question. Well, they might’ve had the guts if they knew what the hell They were talking about. But instead, all of them were dead quiet, trembling rather than basking in the silence. This was the stern creator only a couple’a them ever had to deal with. And even then They weren’t usually this downright terrifying.

God looked around at all of Their people. Their angels. Their perfect little souls. But a frown seemed to linger in the air, dampening any happy spirit in the area. They weren’t foolin’ around here. No sir.

They raised Their voice to the sky and asked one more time, “WHAT HAS -”

“I have, Lord!”

And oh man, the heads turned. It seemed like they’d all get whiplash from turning so fast, but one second they were all staring at their Lord, and the next, they were all staring at Their most faithful almost-saint who hadn’t even applied to be an official saint yet.

St. James.

He was still shaking. The thoughts were playing pinball and ping pong and tackle football in his head, and it grew to be too much. Something had to give. And that something ended up being his mouth. Like a public bathroom stall without the lock, his mouth flew open and began to expel the truth.

James closed his eyes. He had ‘em closed for a long time, just thinking of all the bad stuff that was gonna happen to him now that his almost-deepest secret in his entire time was released. He was awaiting a good smack across the face or at least a punch in the gut, but all that he got was more silence.

God’s light softened, but instead of going friendly, it contorted into flickers. I mean, I’d do the same if I were a fancy flashlight too, really. “Wh…what? What did you say, James?”

Oh, no, St. James thought. They left the St. off of my name…that’s bad…or…maybe it was just a slip…? Maybe They forgot…aw, who am I kidding, They left it off on purpose…I’m not a saint. I’m hardly an adult. Jeez…

“James!” God snapped, breaking the young adult from his trance.

He stared up at his Lord, thinking again of what he’d just done and if he could possibly take it back.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

“I…I was the one who took them into Manhattan. The angels. The former angels, I mean. Fallen angels,” he stammered, unable to get the right words out. “They were…they didn’t deserve Hell.”

“James, back up. Who is hiding out there?” God asked, addressing the question James didn’t wanna answer most of all.

He licked his lips. He’d be facing some mad tongue-lashing over this. “Uhm.” He coughed. “Brady Della Porta and Kyle Strickland…”

God gasped. It was one of those gasps that you know means something’s seriously wrong, and that’s what made a trail of sweat trickle down James’s back so slowly. Their gasp was long and drawn-out, but it was far from dramatic. It wasn’t no exaggeration. Everyone else in the place was thinkin’ the same thing.

Why would good ol’ St. James lower himself to do such a thing?

“I didn’t take them to Hell.” James found himself elaborating even though he didn’t quite remember giving his mouth the permission to speak. “’Cause they’re nice. They’re not bad people, really. They just made a mistake.”

“Yes, but two mistakes? A worldwide conspiracy? An unexplained phenomenon?” God countered. “They broke my rules. And that is why I had banished both of them in the first place – they’re nothing but reprobates!”

James shook the shaking outta his body somehow and stood firmly, planting his feet into the squishy clouds that suddenly felt like concrete. Something surged through his cold veins. It wasn’t blood, neither.

“No,” he spoke, clearing his throat to sound stronger. “They’re not bad people. Honest. I didn’t take them to Hell ‘cause I had a good reason not to. And they grew on me. I think they deserve another chance. They don’t deserve to burn.”

The angels whispered amongst themselves quietly about the newfound courage that this boy had just mustered up in front of them. He had always been silent – the kinda kid who didn’t really talk to no one and blushed a lot. But man, he wasn’t doin’ that now, was he?

God paused. “James…”

“I don’t care, either. You can send me to Hell for this, too. I don’t mind. But I know what I’m doing is right.”

His hands were balled into tight fists at his sides, hanging plainly. Sweat dripped from his palms and forehead still, but the way he spoke, you’d have never guessed he was nervous.

“Why would you do such a thing? Do you realize what you’ve caused in New York now?” God went on.

James opened his mouth to restate his answer and reasons again, but he found that no other words came out. “They’re good. Um…” And then he stopped. Truth was, he didn’t really catch on to what he was doing. Even when he was practically screaming at me and Brady for not having a plan ready in time, it never really dawned on him just how much trouble he could’a gotten everyone into – not just in Heaven, not just in Hell. But on Earth too.

James tried to formulate another answer yet again, but he kept on failing. Nothing would come into his head.

God was about to cut him off once more, but before They could scold the former saint again, the boy who warned Heaven of danger spoke up.

“Lord, they’re working their way up to Earth. We have to get moving and stop them before it’s too late,” he said firmly, loudly.

And James was saved for the moment. God narrowed Their all-knowing light eyes at him, giving him that “you’re so screwed when I get the time to yell at you” look that parents are so freakin’ good at, and the beam turned away from the poor kid.

“I’ll take care of the causes later on,” They declared, seeming to sigh the words hesitantly. “But for now, I’m sending all of my saints to Manhattan to defend the place. Stay incognito if you can. There’s no sense blowing your cover if there’s no one there.”

James bit his lip. All saints? Was he still counted? I mean, the “St.” part of his nickname wasn’t really a title or nothing, but James had done way more than a lot of the saints had in his limited time up in Heaven…he was confused yet again. If he tried to go, he might have run the risk of being falsely commanded. But if he stayed, God might’ve pushed him out and questioned his sanity for not hearing Them.

He stared at the clouds and tried to figure out where to go next. Not just with the situation at hand, but period. What to do?

The angels dispersed into their areas, leaving the main plaza empty except for a few other angels and James, along with God Themselves.

God’s light shuffled forward toward James, feeling the slightest bit of remorse.

“You. James.” Their words carried no hint of emotion. “Go to Manhattan. Warn Brady and Kyle.”

James’s head snapped up at his directions, and out of nowhere this little smirk popped up on his face. And God smiled back at him.

After all, what did James have to lose?